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Lyric Poems

Made in Imitation of the Italians. Of which, many are Translations From other Languages ... By Philip Ayres

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On FAME.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

On FAME.

The Fame we covet, is a wandring Air,
Which against Silence wages constant War;
For to be Mute does her so much displease,
That true, or false, she seldom holds her peace;
She but a while can in a place remain,
'Tis running up and down, does her sustain;
Thô Dead, she seem, she quickly can revive,
And with a Thousand Tongues, a Hydra live.